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Deviation Actions
Literature Text
title: endgame
characters: oikawa tooru, you
words: 5,000+
warnings: profanity
You saw the world in numbers - a ticking time bomb that slowly dropped in rapid, red numbers of years, months, weeks, days, and minutes.
It takes you twelve minutes to walk to the train station you use to get to school. Your hands clasp the metal railing above you firmly, waiting for the ten minutes of the mellow ride to pass by. You arrive six minutes early to class before the first bell rings. Twenty eight minutes. One thousand and eighty seconds.
Oikawa enters about two minutes later with a flock of pubescent second and first year girls eagerly trailing his every step as they gush and swoon from the classroom door. He shoots you a lopsided smile before sitting down on your right and running his fingers through his disheveled hair, earning a few more delighted squeals from the group of young girls observing him. Your teacher whacks them all on the head with a rolled up magazine before ushering them out and bidding them not to be tardy.
“She’s pretty,” Oikawa whispers under his breath about half an hour into class.
You finish writing down the equation that the teacher has scribbled on the board with white chalk before turning to your right to face him, lowering your head and cupping your hand to whisper, “Who are you talking about?”
“Her,” He nods his head, motioning towards a girl that sits a few rows above you.
Oikawa had a certain knack for eyeing girls he found attractive in class, and the habit never ceased to distract him from his studies. You eye his notes, which has messy equations and numbers that eventually turn into illegible scribbles across his paper. You glance back at his face - the usual impish expression fixed smitten in a dream-like state of flair under his windswept hair. His eyes, usually in a pointed mischievous gaze, softened as he stared at the girl with his chin propped up on his palm.
You follow his gaze and spot the girl’s profile near the front of the room. She has glossy hair that runs down her back and wide eyes that face the board as she jots down the notes. She was pretty - no doubt about it - but she was like any other pale-faced, lithe beauty that Oikawa was always infatuated with. You look back at him, trying your best to maintain your blank composure.
“Should I ask her out?” Oikawa asks you with his hands behind his head as he ponders out loud, leaning back on his chair.
“You should try to get to know her first,” You go back to writing your notes and pray your teacher won’t catch you and Oikawa frolicking around in the back of the class. “You know, before you date her and everything.”
“Maybe I should invite her to watch one of our games,” Oikawa flashes you a playful grin, that troublemaking smile that always made your breath get caught in your throat. “That’s pretty romantic, right? It’s doesn’t seem too obvious that I’m hitting on her?”
“Won’t your fangirls be upset?” You frown.
He merely waves it off with a flicker of his hand before chuckling, “They’ll get over it sooner or later. My plan is fool-proof. I’m quite a genius. I don’t understand why Iwaizumi keeps calling me a heap of wasted potential.”
“Good idea,” You manage to reply. Your fingers grip tighter on the end of your pencil, the knuckles turning the same milky white as the chalk dust brushed off the board in front of the class.
Within the short amount of time left in class, your eyes sneak glances back and forth from Oikawa and the girl he was constantly ogling at. His eyes never left the other girl, and his usual stoic glare seemed softer than before. You’ve seen that look - the kind where his eyes are moony and lips are stretched to a thin line between a grin and a smirk. His bright eyes were beaming. You see it every time he prepares to serve a volleyball, whenever he aces a test that he had complained to you about the day before, and every time he wins a game that he had suffered wiping blood from his busted lips for.
You know because you look at him the same way.
It was your fallout.
The platonic relationship you had with Oikawa was damaging. The parasitism of you listening to him chatter in mindless wanderlust about the other girl made him oblivious to the sad, longing smiles you would give. You were there when he had cracked and fell apart after that younger, genius setter, Kageyama Tobio, had his hands wrapped around Oikawa’s neck in superiority. Late nights of staying up and listening to him whisper over the phone of tired “I’ll never be good enough”s and "I’m a disappointment”s. Screaming your throat raw and applauding for him along the sidelines. Wasting your lunch money to buy twice the amount of milk bread for him after practice. All of it was never enough.
People continue changing, the clock keeps on ticking, and the world doesn’t stop for anyone even as you beg the seconds.
You greet him during practice, handing over a black bag with packaged milk bread for him. His face brightens and he graciously takes it from you before sinking his teeth into the pastry.
“Thanks, [Name],” He smiles, a few crumbs still lingering on the edge of his lips. “Seriously, these are my favorite.”
The coach urges everyone to take a break a few minutes after you fed Oikawa his treat. He waves to you from where you sat on the benches and says a few words to his teammates before heading towards where you wait. A white towel drapes around his neck, and he carefully uses it to wipe away the beads of sweat running down his forehead and to tousle his already unruly hair. He faces you with wide eyes.
There is wicked smile on his face as he says with much enthusiasm, “I talked to her today.”
You raise an eyebrow, “Oh? How’d it go?”
“I found out a lot about her!” He proceeds to tell you about his encounter with the girl he was infatuated with and gesticulates with his hands with excessive excitement. “I saw her in the library and we started a conversation! The librarian was being a total douche but I found out that her favorite color is yellow and she likes grape soda but hates raspberry juice and she loves to read and her favorite flavor of gum is mint and - ”
You interrupt in the middle of his rant, “You have a really good feeling about this girl, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Oikawa rubs the back of his neck bashfully. “Do you think she’ll accept my confession?”
You blink at him. “You’re actually planning on asking her out? When?”
He taps on his chin as he thinks about it for a second, “I don’t know, next week?”
“Next week? Oikawa, are you serious?”
“Look, I know it’s a little early, but I know she’s the one!” Oikawa exclaims with such desperation that he almost persuades you. You feel your chest tighten at the way he speaks so strongly about her. His eyes are pleading and his lips are twisted into a large pout. “She’s not like other girls I’ve liked, [Name], I can feel it.”
“You say that about every girl you like,” You argue.
“Look, as a friend, are you going to support me or not?” He asks, his voice shaking through gritted teeth.
He was still trying to maintain his collected and jovial nature, but you could tell that he's clearly upset - maybe even disappointed. By now you realize that both of your voices have risen much higher than usual. Your fists ball in your lap and tremble from utter disbelief and momentary panic that burns in your veins. Some of the players on the volleyball team eye you and Oikawa warily, having never seen their captain speak to you in such a direct and authoritative tone.
“Oikawa, don’t you think you think you should slow down a bit?” You try to keep your voice from stumbling. “I mean, you just noticed her yesterday.”
“It’s my third year,” Oikawa stands up from his seat, his body looming over yours. "Graduation's in twelve months. I have a strong feeling about her, and this might be my last chance.” You weren’t sure you had the nerve to look back up at his eyes, but you did anyways. His cold stare pierces through your skin and coils tightly around your wrists.
You sigh, “I think you’re going too fast.”
You can see the balls of his fists tighten. “Yeah. Yeah, whatever.”
Oikawa briskly stands up from his seat on the bench next to you and goes back on the volleyball court.
He doesn't look back.
It takes him twelve days to ask the pretty girl out.
She said yes.
It was unbearable at first. During the first few weeks, you had stopped coming after school with your hands full with a bag of milk bread from the bakery nearby. You slowly watched him turn into more of a beast, and there was nothing you could do. Sometimes, you would lie alone in the dark and wait for those midnight calls of exhaustion but all you’re left with are your own sighs with no one to share them with. You watched as Oikawa would slowly die, and watching yourself die, too.
He would often come to class early and sit next to his girlfriend’s desk as they would chew on soft bread and meals in bento boxes together. His fangirls were devastated at first, but many grew accustomed to it and never stopped sending him compliments throughout the day. You were replaced by her, who would be the one coming to visit him during practices instead of you and your usual daily appearances. She’d be the one in the front row cheering him on and swelling in pride. And you’d watch silently behind them because really, what else could you do?
Less glances to each other during math lessons. Fewer calls. Loud silence. And just like that, spring slowly began to draw to summer.
After school, almost out of instinct, you find yourself heading towards the bakery by your school. You stop at the doorway and bite your lip in complete and utter annoyance at yourself. You pivot on your heel and prepare to leave, but the door opens with a soft ringing of a bell and a familiar voice calls your name.
“[Name]?” You slowly turn around to see Oikawa staring at you.
“Oikawa,” You feel your breath hitch.
“What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” You repeat. From what you knew, practice had only started about ten minutes ago. “Don’t you have volleyball practice?”
“Practice was cancelled today,” He glances at you nervously, hesitating on his next words. “I decided to just run here and...I missed having these.” He raises the item that was hidden behind his back. In his left hand, he holds a small black bag with packaged milk bread, the kind you would often bring for him. He grinned at you sheepishly before lowering his hand. You look into his eyes. You've always gotten lost in them.
“Why didn’t your girlfriend buy any for you?” You feel your hands grip your school bag harder. “Aren’t you going to walk her home or something?”
He seems a bit taken back by your remark, but he remains calm. “She had to head home early today.”
“I see.”
The two of you stand in silence, neither of you bothering to speak up. He continues to glance at you, though you only gazed down at your shoes. It had been weeks, maybe even months since your outburst in the gym with him. You constantly rack your head on what to say next, but he beats you to it.
“Hey, [Name],” He smiles at you. “Let’s get away from here.”
You breathe in his scent, the poison seeping into your lungs and into your veins. You’ve longed for him in those late hours and the stubborn refusals to look at him during class. You begin to finally open him like a box of nicotine, and feel the smoke settle into the crevices of your lips.
“Alright.”
He lies on the soft grass as you sit cross-legged on the field. The sky is empty - no clouds, no pretty patterns. Just a blank canvas with vintage rose and peach colors smeared on. You knew that you'd have to wash your uniform tonight from sitting on the wet earth and the ride home would be much longer, since you were somewhere much farther away from home. You gaze at Oikawa, the one who even suggested resting in this small, grassy field away from his house. And immediately, you lose yourself all over again.
He's on his back, staring at the sky with arms behind his head, and you wonder if he's thinking about her like of how you think of him.
"Hey, Oikawa," You finally speak, and he turns to look at you. You make no effort to return his glance, and only continue to stare at the sky. "What's so great about your girlfriend?"
"Well," He began, sighing a bit wistfully. "She's kind, and visits me after practice often. She helps me with homework and makes sure I eat breakfast and lunch instead of skipping out on them for practice. She's also freaking hot, if you haven't noticed." He laughs, and you smile in return. It doesn't reach your eyes, and he notices this. The air grows quiet again. You wonder what was so different between his girlfriend and you - something so different that it made Oikawa sure of something that he had with her instead of you.
"Do you call and talk to her?" You ask. "You know, during midnight and everything?
He doesn't look at you. "No. No, I don't."
You breathe a sigh of relief. You still had a piece of him left, even if it meant you were already left with nothing.
"Say, [Name]," Oikawa's eyes brighten, "You never talk about your love life."
"I'm pretty sure I don't have one," You hum.
"Have you ever liked someone?" He asks. "Maybe even love?"
Of course I have, dumbass. You just never seem to see the way I brighten up when I'm around you. My sad smiles when you talk about her. The way I cringe when you hold her hand or kiss her cheeks. The way I'm drowning in thoughts of you while you're swimming in shallow waters. You never seem to notice the way I am the one always waiting for the real you to dial my number when it's three in the morning. But most of all, you never seem to notice the way I love you.
"No," You mutter. "I did once. It didn't work out. I'd rather get drunk and shitfaced in the back of a bar then go through stuff like that again."
Oikawa laughs. "I'll come with you then so you don't have to be alone."
"That's very kind of you."
"You should really experience it one day,” A small smile tugs on Oikawa's lips. "Love, that is. It's one of the greatest feelings in the world. When I see her, it's like a light in the dark. When I win a game or when I deliver an excellent serve...It feels like that."
"That's great," Your chest tightens.
"Yeah, but enough about me. Tell me about your past love."
Nothing remains in the past for too long, Oikawa.
"I really liked this guy, and we've been friends for a while. We were really close and talked about everything and nothing, we'd laugh at meaningless jokes, and we'd be there for each other when we were going through hard times," You pull some clumps grass out as you speak. "But the guy never liked me back. He found someone new. For the longest time, I didn't know what to do. I was suffocating. And that's why..."
He finally glances at you.
"I guess that's why I don't believe in falling in love anymore."
But he sees right through you, like a mirror that has reflected in his eyes. He smiles that knowing smile, the kind he gets when he's about to serve towards a weak opponent or when he knows you're about to fall apart in his arms.
"Bullshit."
It is 2AM when you finally hear him break into pieces.
You were a never a light sleeper, but you couldn't help but stay up the past few nights this week.
Months have passed. So much has happened you couldn't bear to wrap it around your head. You found solace in returning the occasional looks he'd send you during class and in the days you'd go out and buy treats for him and his girlfriend. It certainly wasn't nirvana, but you were satisfied enough to say you were happy that he was so glad to share his life with someone else. The girl he loved was pretty and certainly nice, but you had no intentions to grow mutually close to her.
Still, you wondered if she was the one to talk to him when no one else would, and if she would be able to stop him from running and getting lost in the messes he creates. You knew she wasn't and she couldn't. And you knew Oikawa did, too.
Your phone buzzes on your nightstand, and you immediately sit up from your bed. After staring at the dark ceiling for so long, reaching your hands out so your fingers could faintly touch and trace the outline of his jaw you pictured in the dark air above you, it was startling to hear your phone go off in the middle of the night. You grip the bed sheets tighter and softly put your phone to your ear and hear a long sigh on the other end of the line. You check the clock on your night table. 2:18 AM.
"Hello?" You ask warily.
"Hey," He whispers. You could tell his voice was straining to be as delightful as possible.
"Oikawa, it's two in the morning," You missed this. God, how you've missed this. "Is there something wrong?"
"Just having a nervous breakdown," He jokes but his voice has never been more serious. "And I probably just fractured my larynx."
You swallowed. "I'm...really glad you called me."
You can hear his voice trembling, "I'm just so tired. I'm tired of being a complete mess and disgusting trash that I am. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of myself, [Name]."
"No, that's not true," You protest.
"Then, what am I? What am I supposed to be?" He was a fuse about to burst. "Am I that 'Great King' everyone still expects me to be? What if I fuck up - then what happens? I'm just so tired of all this pressure to be the greatest captain, the greatest setter, to be the greatest player to ever step on a court and serve. I'm so sick of being like this. I'm so sick of being someone to look up to when we both know that there are a shit ton of other players more qualified than me. I want to just...leave for a while. Run away, maybe."
"You're a coward, Tooru," You say, and you can almost feel him flinch over the phone. "You're scared of failing, but that's what makes us human. Failing is a part of living. Are you saying you want to be any less human? Because if it's one thing you are, Tooru, it's a living, breathing, person that yes, makes mistakes sometimes, but at least I know you're real. I know that, your team knows that, your girlfriend knows that."
"Why should I exist when I'm not good enough?" He asks. You've heard him ask this numerous times, especially after matches against Ushijima Wakatoshi and when he pulls a blunder in front of Kageyama Tobio. "I'm not good enough to win. Not good enough for anyone. Not good enough for her."
You feel your eyelids close. "Yes, you are. You're good enough, and that's more than what we all need."
"No," His voice cracks. "No, I'm not. She doesn't care about me."
Your eyelids snap back open. "Oikawa - "
"She said I care more about volleyball than her," He said. "That I'm too focused on a sport rather than her, which is a load of crap because I do care. I do, but no one notices that right? Everyone thinks I'm just some egotistical bitch and I'm sorry for that. But no one believes a king. So why should a nonbeliever? I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."
"No, I should be the one who's sorry," You say. "I wasn't there for you. I could've been the one to call you and help but I was just...too scared to. I thought I'd be bothering you. I care about you, Oikawa, and you should never feel this way about yourself."
In a low voice - so quiet you almost didn't hear it - he whispers, "I wish you were my girlfriend."
You bite your lip, and stare out the window. Slowly looking back up at the ceiling, you let out a slow, shallow breath. You could feel your lip trembling and as you run your fingers through your hair.
"Girlfriends can be nice," You reply. "Some are just not all that great, I guess."
"I bet you'd be a good one." You can almost hear his voice reach out to brush your cheek and run down your neck.
And every part of you, from your heels to the ends of your fingers, fills up with light.
They lost.
Shiratorizawa took the first set. Aoba Johsai lost again in the second set with a score of 25 - 18.
You sit on the bench in disappointment, disbelief, but most of all, fear. Everyone else around you, classmates and adults, lets out a collective sigh at the loss of your school in the tournament. They all walk away from the benches or, unlike the minority, stayed and continued to watch the other rounds. You remain seated on your bench, eyes pulsating as your fingers grip the edge of the bench you sat on. They lost. One chance. No way back in.
Ushijima pounds his fist in the air as his teammates huddle together in joy. His school classmates cheering him on with a magenta and white banner in the stands roar along, but it all turns into white noise for you. He looks back at the net and down on the floor, his fists lying on either side. Your eyes train on him as the Shiratorizawa captain turns and stands, towering over a broken body on the ground. Oikawa...
Oikawa is on his knees, his arms in front of him as he cowers below the net. Drops of sweat fall to the ground from his neck and forehead. You can see him trembling as he begs his arms to try to hold him up from falling entirely to the ground. His face is masked by his tousled hair, but it is already enough to destroy you from the inside. Ushijima watches over him stoically, almost in disdain.
Oikawa looks up, and you immediately recognize that look in his eyes even as you sat a distance away from him: the terror of inferiority.
You watch as Iwaizumi crouches down to gently pat him on the shoulder, much different from his usual need to hit his best friend, and tell him that it was time to line up. Oikawa reluctantly stands, his body still shaking.
You look around, but his girlfriend is nowhere to be seen. The Aoba Johsai captain made no attempt to look at the stands during time-outs or breaks of the game. She wasn't here. You weren't able to watch the teams shake hands since you immediately run out of the stands and to the halls where the Aoba Johsai team might be headed out towards in any minute after packing up in the locker rooms. They would be returning home without a crown.
Iwaizumi spots you and asks, "Ah, [Name]? You came to watch us play?"
"Yeah," You reply and smile kindly. "It was a close match. I'm really sorry about your loss. You played very well!"
"Thanks, but it was Shiratorizawa we were up against. That was no easy match," Iwaizumi sighed. "Anyways, are you waiting for someone?"
"I was wondering where Oikawa is at," You answer, your eyes skimming the rest of the Aoba Johsai team members decked in their white and mint colored jackets.
"I have no idea where that idiot went," Iwaizumi shakes his head. "Probably ran off again to cry in a corner. I guess I'll have to go find him soon."
He sighs again before waving to you and running back to his team. "See you around, [Name]."
You wave back, but your chest tightens.
Oikawa flew too close to the sun, and got burned in return.
You saw the world in numbers - a ticking time bomb that slowly dropped in rapid, red numbers of years, months, weeks, days, and minutes.
It takes you one hour of running around your neighborhood in vain attempt to find Oikawa. You check the school and the gym, only to find it empty, which took you another thirty minutes. You spend the first two hours in bed lying in the dark to pray Oikawa would be safe. Two hundred and ten minutes. Twelve thousand and six hundred seconds.
You've called him hundreds of times in the past hours, hoping he'd pick up each time. He either didn't or blatantly refused to.
Your clock read 12:48 AM. The numbers were a familiar, deep shade of red.
Suddenly, a knock comes at your door. You furrow your eyebrows in concern. Your parents are working their graveyard shift tonight, which left you alone in the house. Your heart rate quickens.
The knock comes again. This time, a muffled voice calls out from outside, “[Name], let me in. It’s cold out here.”
You freeze. You recognize that voice. Immediately, you hop out from under the sheets and dash for the door. As soon as you open it, you find your breath catch in your throat. Oikawa stands there staring at the air above your head. His eyes bore into your skin. Everything about him - his eyes, his lips, and his body - looked so exhausted that you thought he would collapse at your doorstep. He stands there wearing a thin t-shirt and his Aoba Johsai volleyball pants. He shivers from the cold, and you finally feel the cold draft entering your house.
“Oikawa,” You suck in your breath, your fingers trembling at his weak form in front of you. He makes no effort to look down at you.
“Hey,” He drawls.
“What are you doing out here? You could catch a cold!” You exclaim.
“A cold,” He chuckles bitterly, choking between laughs and intermittent cries. “I’m going to catch a cold.”
You quietly usher him in and he follows you to your bed. He sits on the edge and stares at his palms, trying to read between the lines and creases that ran between his fingers. You stand in front of him and slowly, you start to glide your fingers along his back and give a reassuring squeeze to his shoulders. Everything inside of you tightens. You have never seen him so distressed before, and you wonder if someone inside of him has been permanently shattered. He shivers silently and his body shakes from the cold. He buries his face into his hands.
“I’m a failure,” He murmurs to himself, “I couldn’t win the game. I can’t manage my own team. I - I couldn’t make her stay. I’m a failure.” His hands shake and you lightly touch them, your fingers trailing his hand as they run down his neck softly. You slowly brush them below his hairline and the nape of his neck soothingly - so lightly that he almost didn’t realize your skin was colliding with his.
“No,” You whisper insistently, gripping him tighter and running your fingers through his dark locks. “No, no, no." As if you couldn’t believe your ears.
“I don’t know where to go,” Oikawa grips his head tighter.
“Who took you here?” You ask softly.
“I walked here alone,” He says it so nonchalantly that you falter for a second. “I keep running but I’m not going anywhere. Why the fuck.”
“Oikawa…”
He hasn’t looked at you since he entered the door. His body is still cold, and his fingers nervously comb through his misshapen hair. Your palms have made their way to the outline of his face and the ball of your thumb caresses his jaw slowly. He doesn't pull away, but softens under your touch. His arms fall and hang over his knees, his face still staring down at your feet.
“You’ll be okay,” You sigh, never letting go of his face.
“Christ,” He lets out a shaky breath. “I’m just so tired. I just want it all to be over.”
“I’m here for you,”
“I know, but she wasn’t,” His voice shakes. “She kept saying I cared about volleyball more than her. Ditched her for practice too much. But I loved her and told her I’d win this game for her - to show her that I’ve been trying and trying for her. She dumped me right on the spot. But God, I loved her. I loved her, but it wasn’t enough.”
You look down at him before asking, “Did you ever tell her?”
“No,” And then he looks up at you. He looks so exhausted - you almost couldn’t take it. His eyes are as fragile as ruined glass, like heaven fell from his fingertips. His lips are chapped and are pulled into a twisted, tired smile.
You had never seen something so broken in your entire life.
His voice, faint and almost wistful, nearly cracks when he asks, “Why couldn’t I have loved you?”
It takes every fiber of your being to resist from holding his face close to yours, to feel those frozen lips clash with your own and set fire to all the bones in your body. You almost let it happen. You almost open your mouth and with pleading eyes, tell him that this was a new start for the both of you. You almost whisper then try. Try loving me the way I do with you.
You beg for more minutes, more seconds, more time.
"Because," You begin, fingers trailing his jaw. "Because fate is selfish. It feeds off pain, and pain is universal, Oikawa. But even something as terrible as pain needs to be wanted. Life doesn't work the way we want it to. We aren't immortal, but human. We make messes of our lives with no way to fix them. There's nothing we can do about it. I know I'm being too philosophical and spouting crappy nonsense for you but what I'm saying is it just takes a few tries to get it right. We...us..."
He looks up at you.
"I guess we're too much of a mess to be together," You hold him close. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Tentatively, he slides his arms around your waist. You make no move to push him away.
"Yeah, I guess we are."
You stare down at his broken form and wonder how you were ever so lucky to have something that wasn't yours.
characters: oikawa tooru, you
words: 5,000+
warnings: profanity
01:00:00:00:00
You saw the world in numbers - a ticking time bomb that slowly dropped in rapid, red numbers of years, months, weeks, days, and minutes.
It takes you twelve minutes to walk to the train station you use to get to school. Your hands clasp the metal railing above you firmly, waiting for the ten minutes of the mellow ride to pass by. You arrive six minutes early to class before the first bell rings. Twenty eight minutes. One thousand and eighty seconds.
Oikawa enters about two minutes later with a flock of pubescent second and first year girls eagerly trailing his every step as they gush and swoon from the classroom door. He shoots you a lopsided smile before sitting down on your right and running his fingers through his disheveled hair, earning a few more delighted squeals from the group of young girls observing him. Your teacher whacks them all on the head with a rolled up magazine before ushering them out and bidding them not to be tardy.
“She’s pretty,” Oikawa whispers under his breath about half an hour into class.
You finish writing down the equation that the teacher has scribbled on the board with white chalk before turning to your right to face him, lowering your head and cupping your hand to whisper, “Who are you talking about?”
“Her,” He nods his head, motioning towards a girl that sits a few rows above you.
Oikawa had a certain knack for eyeing girls he found attractive in class, and the habit never ceased to distract him from his studies. You eye his notes, which has messy equations and numbers that eventually turn into illegible scribbles across his paper. You glance back at his face - the usual impish expression fixed smitten in a dream-like state of flair under his windswept hair. His eyes, usually in a pointed mischievous gaze, softened as he stared at the girl with his chin propped up on his palm.
You follow his gaze and spot the girl’s profile near the front of the room. She has glossy hair that runs down her back and wide eyes that face the board as she jots down the notes. She was pretty - no doubt about it - but she was like any other pale-faced, lithe beauty that Oikawa was always infatuated with. You look back at him, trying your best to maintain your blank composure.
“Should I ask her out?” Oikawa asks you with his hands behind his head as he ponders out loud, leaning back on his chair.
“You should try to get to know her first,” You go back to writing your notes and pray your teacher won’t catch you and Oikawa frolicking around in the back of the class. “You know, before you date her and everything.”
“Maybe I should invite her to watch one of our games,” Oikawa flashes you a playful grin, that troublemaking smile that always made your breath get caught in your throat. “That’s pretty romantic, right? It’s doesn’t seem too obvious that I’m hitting on her?”
“Won’t your fangirls be upset?” You frown.
He merely waves it off with a flicker of his hand before chuckling, “They’ll get over it sooner or later. My plan is fool-proof. I’m quite a genius. I don’t understand why Iwaizumi keeps calling me a heap of wasted potential.”
“Good idea,” You manage to reply. Your fingers grip tighter on the end of your pencil, the knuckles turning the same milky white as the chalk dust brushed off the board in front of the class.
Within the short amount of time left in class, your eyes sneak glances back and forth from Oikawa and the girl he was constantly ogling at. His eyes never left the other girl, and his usual stoic glare seemed softer than before. You’ve seen that look - the kind where his eyes are moony and lips are stretched to a thin line between a grin and a smirk. His bright eyes were beaming. You see it every time he prepares to serve a volleyball, whenever he aces a test that he had complained to you about the day before, and every time he wins a game that he had suffered wiping blood from his busted lips for.
You know because you look at him the same way.
00:11:03:30:10
It was your fallout.
The platonic relationship you had with Oikawa was damaging. The parasitism of you listening to him chatter in mindless wanderlust about the other girl made him oblivious to the sad, longing smiles you would give. You were there when he had cracked and fell apart after that younger, genius setter, Kageyama Tobio, had his hands wrapped around Oikawa’s neck in superiority. Late nights of staying up and listening to him whisper over the phone of tired “I’ll never be good enough”s and "I’m a disappointment”s. Screaming your throat raw and applauding for him along the sidelines. Wasting your lunch money to buy twice the amount of milk bread for him after practice. All of it was never enough.
People continue changing, the clock keeps on ticking, and the world doesn’t stop for anyone even as you beg the seconds.
You greet him during practice, handing over a black bag with packaged milk bread for him. His face brightens and he graciously takes it from you before sinking his teeth into the pastry.
“Thanks, [Name],” He smiles, a few crumbs still lingering on the edge of his lips. “Seriously, these are my favorite.”
The coach urges everyone to take a break a few minutes after you fed Oikawa his treat. He waves to you from where you sat on the benches and says a few words to his teammates before heading towards where you wait. A white towel drapes around his neck, and he carefully uses it to wipe away the beads of sweat running down his forehead and to tousle his already unruly hair. He faces you with wide eyes.
There is wicked smile on his face as he says with much enthusiasm, “I talked to her today.”
You raise an eyebrow, “Oh? How’d it go?”
“I found out a lot about her!” He proceeds to tell you about his encounter with the girl he was infatuated with and gesticulates with his hands with excessive excitement. “I saw her in the library and we started a conversation! The librarian was being a total douche but I found out that her favorite color is yellow and she likes grape soda but hates raspberry juice and she loves to read and her favorite flavor of gum is mint and - ”
You interrupt in the middle of his rant, “You have a really good feeling about this girl, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Oikawa rubs the back of his neck bashfully. “Do you think she’ll accept my confession?”
You blink at him. “You’re actually planning on asking her out? When?”
He taps on his chin as he thinks about it for a second, “I don’t know, next week?”
“Next week? Oikawa, are you serious?”
“Look, I know it’s a little early, but I know she’s the one!” Oikawa exclaims with such desperation that he almost persuades you. You feel your chest tighten at the way he speaks so strongly about her. His eyes are pleading and his lips are twisted into a large pout. “She’s not like other girls I’ve liked, [Name], I can feel it.”
“You say that about every girl you like,” You argue.
“Look, as a friend, are you going to support me or not?” He asks, his voice shaking through gritted teeth.
He was still trying to maintain his collected and jovial nature, but you could tell that he's clearly upset - maybe even disappointed. By now you realize that both of your voices have risen much higher than usual. Your fists ball in your lap and tremble from utter disbelief and momentary panic that burns in your veins. Some of the players on the volleyball team eye you and Oikawa warily, having never seen their captain speak to you in such a direct and authoritative tone.
“Oikawa, don’t you think you think you should slow down a bit?” You try to keep your voice from stumbling. “I mean, you just noticed her yesterday.”
“It’s my third year,” Oikawa stands up from his seat, his body looming over yours. "Graduation's in twelve months. I have a strong feeling about her, and this might be my last chance.” You weren’t sure you had the nerve to look back up at his eyes, but you did anyways. His cold stare pierces through your skin and coils tightly around your wrists.
You sigh, “I think you’re going too fast.”
You can see the balls of his fists tighten. “Yeah. Yeah, whatever.”
Oikawa briskly stands up from his seat on the bench next to you and goes back on the volleyball court.
He doesn't look back.
00:08:02:20:50
It takes him twelve days to ask the pretty girl out.
She said yes.
It was unbearable at first. During the first few weeks, you had stopped coming after school with your hands full with a bag of milk bread from the bakery nearby. You slowly watched him turn into more of a beast, and there was nothing you could do. Sometimes, you would lie alone in the dark and wait for those midnight calls of exhaustion but all you’re left with are your own sighs with no one to share them with. You watched as Oikawa would slowly die, and watching yourself die, too.
He would often come to class early and sit next to his girlfriend’s desk as they would chew on soft bread and meals in bento boxes together. His fangirls were devastated at first, but many grew accustomed to it and never stopped sending him compliments throughout the day. You were replaced by her, who would be the one coming to visit him during practices instead of you and your usual daily appearances. She’d be the one in the front row cheering him on and swelling in pride. And you’d watch silently behind them because really, what else could you do?
Less glances to each other during math lessons. Fewer calls. Loud silence. And just like that, spring slowly began to draw to summer.
After school, almost out of instinct, you find yourself heading towards the bakery by your school. You stop at the doorway and bite your lip in complete and utter annoyance at yourself. You pivot on your heel and prepare to leave, but the door opens with a soft ringing of a bell and a familiar voice calls your name.
“[Name]?” You slowly turn around to see Oikawa staring at you.
“Oikawa,” You feel your breath hitch.
“What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” You repeat. From what you knew, practice had only started about ten minutes ago. “Don’t you have volleyball practice?”
“Practice was cancelled today,” He glances at you nervously, hesitating on his next words. “I decided to just run here and...I missed having these.” He raises the item that was hidden behind his back. In his left hand, he holds a small black bag with packaged milk bread, the kind you would often bring for him. He grinned at you sheepishly before lowering his hand. You look into his eyes. You've always gotten lost in them.
“Why didn’t your girlfriend buy any for you?” You feel your hands grip your school bag harder. “Aren’t you going to walk her home or something?”
He seems a bit taken back by your remark, but he remains calm. “She had to head home early today.”
“I see.”
The two of you stand in silence, neither of you bothering to speak up. He continues to glance at you, though you only gazed down at your shoes. It had been weeks, maybe even months since your outburst in the gym with him. You constantly rack your head on what to say next, but he beats you to it.
“Hey, [Name],” He smiles at you. “Let’s get away from here.”
You breathe in his scent, the poison seeping into your lungs and into your veins. You’ve longed for him in those late hours and the stubborn refusals to look at him during class. You begin to finally open him like a box of nicotine, and feel the smoke settle into the crevices of your lips.
“Alright.”
He lies on the soft grass as you sit cross-legged on the field. The sky is empty - no clouds, no pretty patterns. Just a blank canvas with vintage rose and peach colors smeared on. You knew that you'd have to wash your uniform tonight from sitting on the wet earth and the ride home would be much longer, since you were somewhere much farther away from home. You gaze at Oikawa, the one who even suggested resting in this small, grassy field away from his house. And immediately, you lose yourself all over again.
He's on his back, staring at the sky with arms behind his head, and you wonder if he's thinking about her like of how you think of him.
"Hey, Oikawa," You finally speak, and he turns to look at you. You make no effort to return his glance, and only continue to stare at the sky. "What's so great about your girlfriend?"
"Well," He began, sighing a bit wistfully. "She's kind, and visits me after practice often. She helps me with homework and makes sure I eat breakfast and lunch instead of skipping out on them for practice. She's also freaking hot, if you haven't noticed." He laughs, and you smile in return. It doesn't reach your eyes, and he notices this. The air grows quiet again. You wonder what was so different between his girlfriend and you - something so different that it made Oikawa sure of something that he had with her instead of you.
"Do you call and talk to her?" You ask. "You know, during midnight and everything?
He doesn't look at you. "No. No, I don't."
You breathe a sigh of relief. You still had a piece of him left, even if it meant you were already left with nothing.
"Say, [Name]," Oikawa's eyes brighten, "You never talk about your love life."
"I'm pretty sure I don't have one," You hum.
"Have you ever liked someone?" He asks. "Maybe even love?"
Of course I have, dumbass. You just never seem to see the way I brighten up when I'm around you. My sad smiles when you talk about her. The way I cringe when you hold her hand or kiss her cheeks. The way I'm drowning in thoughts of you while you're swimming in shallow waters. You never seem to notice the way I am the one always waiting for the real you to dial my number when it's three in the morning. But most of all, you never seem to notice the way I love you.
"No," You mutter. "I did once. It didn't work out. I'd rather get drunk and shitfaced in the back of a bar then go through stuff like that again."
Oikawa laughs. "I'll come with you then so you don't have to be alone."
"That's very kind of you."
"You should really experience it one day,” A small smile tugs on Oikawa's lips. "Love, that is. It's one of the greatest feelings in the world. When I see her, it's like a light in the dark. When I win a game or when I deliver an excellent serve...It feels like that."
"That's great," Your chest tightens.
"Yeah, but enough about me. Tell me about your past love."
Nothing remains in the past for too long, Oikawa.
"I really liked this guy, and we've been friends for a while. We were really close and talked about everything and nothing, we'd laugh at meaningless jokes, and we'd be there for each other when we were going through hard times," You pull some clumps grass out as you speak. "But the guy never liked me back. He found someone new. For the longest time, I didn't know what to do. I was suffocating. And that's why..."
He finally glances at you.
"I guess that's why I don't believe in falling in love anymore."
But he sees right through you, like a mirror that has reflected in his eyes. He smiles that knowing smile, the kind he gets when he's about to serve towards a weak opponent or when he knows you're about to fall apart in his arms.
"Bullshit."
00:01:02:10:40
It is 2AM when you finally hear him break into pieces.
You were a never a light sleeper, but you couldn't help but stay up the past few nights this week.
Months have passed. So much has happened you couldn't bear to wrap it around your head. You found solace in returning the occasional looks he'd send you during class and in the days you'd go out and buy treats for him and his girlfriend. It certainly wasn't nirvana, but you were satisfied enough to say you were happy that he was so glad to share his life with someone else. The girl he loved was pretty and certainly nice, but you had no intentions to grow mutually close to her.
Still, you wondered if she was the one to talk to him when no one else would, and if she would be able to stop him from running and getting lost in the messes he creates. You knew she wasn't and she couldn't. And you knew Oikawa did, too.
Your phone buzzes on your nightstand, and you immediately sit up from your bed. After staring at the dark ceiling for so long, reaching your hands out so your fingers could faintly touch and trace the outline of his jaw you pictured in the dark air above you, it was startling to hear your phone go off in the middle of the night. You grip the bed sheets tighter and softly put your phone to your ear and hear a long sigh on the other end of the line. You check the clock on your night table. 2:18 AM.
"Hello?" You ask warily.
"Hey," He whispers. You could tell his voice was straining to be as delightful as possible.
"Oikawa, it's two in the morning," You missed this. God, how you've missed this. "Is there something wrong?"
"Just having a nervous breakdown," He jokes but his voice has never been more serious. "And I probably just fractured my larynx."
You swallowed. "I'm...really glad you called me."
You can hear his voice trembling, "I'm just so tired. I'm tired of being a complete mess and disgusting trash that I am. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of myself, [Name]."
"No, that's not true," You protest.
"Then, what am I? What am I supposed to be?" He was a fuse about to burst. "Am I that 'Great King' everyone still expects me to be? What if I fuck up - then what happens? I'm just so tired of all this pressure to be the greatest captain, the greatest setter, to be the greatest player to ever step on a court and serve. I'm so sick of being like this. I'm so sick of being someone to look up to when we both know that there are a shit ton of other players more qualified than me. I want to just...leave for a while. Run away, maybe."
"You're a coward, Tooru," You say, and you can almost feel him flinch over the phone. "You're scared of failing, but that's what makes us human. Failing is a part of living. Are you saying you want to be any less human? Because if it's one thing you are, Tooru, it's a living, breathing, person that yes, makes mistakes sometimes, but at least I know you're real. I know that, your team knows that, your girlfriend knows that."
"Why should I exist when I'm not good enough?" He asks. You've heard him ask this numerous times, especially after matches against Ushijima Wakatoshi and when he pulls a blunder in front of Kageyama Tobio. "I'm not good enough to win. Not good enough for anyone. Not good enough for her."
You feel your eyelids close. "Yes, you are. You're good enough, and that's more than what we all need."
"No," His voice cracks. "No, I'm not. She doesn't care about me."
Your eyelids snap back open. "Oikawa - "
"She said I care more about volleyball than her," He said. "That I'm too focused on a sport rather than her, which is a load of crap because I do care. I do, but no one notices that right? Everyone thinks I'm just some egotistical bitch and I'm sorry for that. But no one believes a king. So why should a nonbeliever? I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."
"No, I should be the one who's sorry," You say. "I wasn't there for you. I could've been the one to call you and help but I was just...too scared to. I thought I'd be bothering you. I care about you, Oikawa, and you should never feel this way about yourself."
In a low voice - so quiet you almost didn't hear it - he whispers, "I wish you were my girlfriend."
You bite your lip, and stare out the window. Slowly looking back up at the ceiling, you let out a slow, shallow breath. You could feel your lip trembling and as you run your fingers through your hair.
"Girlfriends can be nice," You reply. "Some are just not all that great, I guess."
"I bet you'd be a good one." You can almost hear his voice reach out to brush your cheek and run down your neck.
And every part of you, from your heels to the ends of your fingers, fills up with light.
00:00:00:10:06
They lost.
Shiratorizawa took the first set. Aoba Johsai lost again in the second set with a score of 25 - 18.
You sit on the bench in disappointment, disbelief, but most of all, fear. Everyone else around you, classmates and adults, lets out a collective sigh at the loss of your school in the tournament. They all walk away from the benches or, unlike the minority, stayed and continued to watch the other rounds. You remain seated on your bench, eyes pulsating as your fingers grip the edge of the bench you sat on. They lost. One chance. No way back in.
Ushijima pounds his fist in the air as his teammates huddle together in joy. His school classmates cheering him on with a magenta and white banner in the stands roar along, but it all turns into white noise for you. He looks back at the net and down on the floor, his fists lying on either side. Your eyes train on him as the Shiratorizawa captain turns and stands, towering over a broken body on the ground. Oikawa...
Oikawa is on his knees, his arms in front of him as he cowers below the net. Drops of sweat fall to the ground from his neck and forehead. You can see him trembling as he begs his arms to try to hold him up from falling entirely to the ground. His face is masked by his tousled hair, but it is already enough to destroy you from the inside. Ushijima watches over him stoically, almost in disdain.
Oikawa looks up, and you immediately recognize that look in his eyes even as you sat a distance away from him: the terror of inferiority.
You watch as Iwaizumi crouches down to gently pat him on the shoulder, much different from his usual need to hit his best friend, and tell him that it was time to line up. Oikawa reluctantly stands, his body still shaking.
You look around, but his girlfriend is nowhere to be seen. The Aoba Johsai captain made no attempt to look at the stands during time-outs or breaks of the game. She wasn't here. You weren't able to watch the teams shake hands since you immediately run out of the stands and to the halls where the Aoba Johsai team might be headed out towards in any minute after packing up in the locker rooms. They would be returning home without a crown.
Iwaizumi spots you and asks, "Ah, [Name]? You came to watch us play?"
"Yeah," You reply and smile kindly. "It was a close match. I'm really sorry about your loss. You played very well!"
"Thanks, but it was Shiratorizawa we were up against. That was no easy match," Iwaizumi sighed. "Anyways, are you waiting for someone?"
"I was wondering where Oikawa is at," You answer, your eyes skimming the rest of the Aoba Johsai team members decked in their white and mint colored jackets.
"I have no idea where that idiot went," Iwaizumi shakes his head. "Probably ran off again to cry in a corner. I guess I'll have to go find him soon."
He sighs again before waving to you and running back to his team. "See you around, [Name]."
You wave back, but your chest tightens.
Oikawa flew too close to the sun, and got burned in return.
00:00:00:00:10
You saw the world in numbers - a ticking time bomb that slowly dropped in rapid, red numbers of years, months, weeks, days, and minutes.
It takes you one hour of running around your neighborhood in vain attempt to find Oikawa. You check the school and the gym, only to find it empty, which took you another thirty minutes. You spend the first two hours in bed lying in the dark to pray Oikawa would be safe. Two hundred and ten minutes. Twelve thousand and six hundred seconds.
You've called him hundreds of times in the past hours, hoping he'd pick up each time. He either didn't or blatantly refused to.
Your clock read 12:48 AM. The numbers were a familiar, deep shade of red.
Suddenly, a knock comes at your door. You furrow your eyebrows in concern. Your parents are working their graveyard shift tonight, which left you alone in the house. Your heart rate quickens.
The knock comes again. This time, a muffled voice calls out from outside, “[Name], let me in. It’s cold out here.”
You freeze. You recognize that voice. Immediately, you hop out from under the sheets and dash for the door. As soon as you open it, you find your breath catch in your throat. Oikawa stands there staring at the air above your head. His eyes bore into your skin. Everything about him - his eyes, his lips, and his body - looked so exhausted that you thought he would collapse at your doorstep. He stands there wearing a thin t-shirt and his Aoba Johsai volleyball pants. He shivers from the cold, and you finally feel the cold draft entering your house.
“Oikawa,” You suck in your breath, your fingers trembling at his weak form in front of you. He makes no effort to look down at you.
“Hey,” He drawls.
“What are you doing out here? You could catch a cold!” You exclaim.
“A cold,” He chuckles bitterly, choking between laughs and intermittent cries. “I’m going to catch a cold.”
You quietly usher him in and he follows you to your bed. He sits on the edge and stares at his palms, trying to read between the lines and creases that ran between his fingers. You stand in front of him and slowly, you start to glide your fingers along his back and give a reassuring squeeze to his shoulders. Everything inside of you tightens. You have never seen him so distressed before, and you wonder if someone inside of him has been permanently shattered. He shivers silently and his body shakes from the cold. He buries his face into his hands.
“I’m a failure,” He murmurs to himself, “I couldn’t win the game. I can’t manage my own team. I - I couldn’t make her stay. I’m a failure.” His hands shake and you lightly touch them, your fingers trailing his hand as they run down his neck softly. You slowly brush them below his hairline and the nape of his neck soothingly - so lightly that he almost didn’t realize your skin was colliding with his.
“No,” You whisper insistently, gripping him tighter and running your fingers through his dark locks. “No, no, no." As if you couldn’t believe your ears.
“I don’t know where to go,” Oikawa grips his head tighter.
“Who took you here?” You ask softly.
“I walked here alone,” He says it so nonchalantly that you falter for a second. “I keep running but I’m not going anywhere. Why the fuck.”
“Oikawa…”
He hasn’t looked at you since he entered the door. His body is still cold, and his fingers nervously comb through his misshapen hair. Your palms have made their way to the outline of his face and the ball of your thumb caresses his jaw slowly. He doesn't pull away, but softens under your touch. His arms fall and hang over his knees, his face still staring down at your feet.
“You’ll be okay,” You sigh, never letting go of his face.
“Christ,” He lets out a shaky breath. “I’m just so tired. I just want it all to be over.”
“I’m here for you,”
“I know, but she wasn’t,” His voice shakes. “She kept saying I cared about volleyball more than her. Ditched her for practice too much. But I loved her and told her I’d win this game for her - to show her that I’ve been trying and trying for her. She dumped me right on the spot. But God, I loved her. I loved her, but it wasn’t enough.”
You look down at him before asking, “Did you ever tell her?”
“No,” And then he looks up at you. He looks so exhausted - you almost couldn’t take it. His eyes are as fragile as ruined glass, like heaven fell from his fingertips. His lips are chapped and are pulled into a twisted, tired smile.
You had never seen something so broken in your entire life.
00:00:00:00:01
His voice, faint and almost wistful, nearly cracks when he asks, “Why couldn’t I have loved you?”
It takes every fiber of your being to resist from holding his face close to yours, to feel those frozen lips clash with your own and set fire to all the bones in your body. You almost let it happen. You almost open your mouth and with pleading eyes, tell him that this was a new start for the both of you. You almost whisper then try. Try loving me the way I do with you.
You beg for more minutes, more seconds, more time.
"Because," You begin, fingers trailing his jaw. "Because fate is selfish. It feeds off pain, and pain is universal, Oikawa. But even something as terrible as pain needs to be wanted. Life doesn't work the way we want it to. We aren't immortal, but human. We make messes of our lives with no way to fix them. There's nothing we can do about it. I know I'm being too philosophical and spouting crappy nonsense for you but what I'm saying is it just takes a few tries to get it right. We...us..."
He looks up at you.
"I guess we're too much of a mess to be together," You hold him close. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Tentatively, he slides his arms around your waist. You make no move to push him away.
"Yeah, I guess we are."
You stare down at his broken form and wonder how you were ever so lucky to have something that wasn't yours.
00:00:00:00:00
Literature
texts. semi eita
semi x reader
notes: a text with satori gone wrong.
From: (Name)CHAN
To: THIGHDOU_SATORI
TENDOU
From: (Name)CHAN
To: THIGHDOU_SATORI
HELP ME
From: THIGHDOU_SATORI
To: (Name)CHAN
WITH WHAT?
From: (Name)CHAN
To: THIGHDOU_SATORI
WITH EITA-SAN
From: (Name)CHAN
To: THIGHDOU_SATORI
I NEED TO CONFESS TO HIM
From: (Name)CHAN
To: THIGHDOU_SATORI
BUT I'M REALLY NERVOUS
From: THIGHDOU_SATORI
To: (Name)CHAN
I SEE
From: THIGHDOU_SATORI
To: (Name)CHAN
THEN TEXT ME THE THINGS YOU'RE GONNA TELL HIM WHEN YOU CONFESS
From: (Name)CHAN
To: THIGHDOU_SATORI
DO I REALLY HAVE TO?
From: THIGHDOU_SATORI
To: (Name)CHAN
YES HOW CAN MASTER SATO
Literature
night's alright | oikawa tooru
Being roommates with someone so cute wasn’t easy. Oikawa wasn’t exactly the posterchild for innocence, but he wasn’t aggressive or unruly, either. Still, nothing could really stop him from flirting with you. You had seen him do it with other girls, which was why you always brushed it off as meaningless… At first, he had been clueless as to why it hurt when you brushed him off–refusing to play along with his antics for fear that you’d only get hurt in the end. Slowly but surely, daily and nightly, realization began to bloom within that keen mind of his. He had started to adore every part of you, started to w
Literature
good accidents. ( soulmate!au ) | kageyama
soulmate au;;
you feel whatever pain your soulmate feels.
“how are you supposed to know who they are when you first meet them?”
yachi thinks about soulmates a lot. this is one of her constant musings; you’ve both talked it through and to be honest, you don’t know how that would work. it isn’t the most practical way to find your soulmate because there’s no real indication like those stories you read about the timers and colors.
if only it were that easy.
“what if you just slapped someone and felt a sting on your face? then you would know it’s them!”
yet another brilliant idea from this
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i remember my first impression of oikawa was like "wow this guy's a total dick". however, as i delved into more of his backstory, i got so attached to him.
like i loved his flaws and somewhat inferiority complex. i thought it was amazing to see him break down and everything in front of Kageyama. i loved it.
seriously, even though he's a total trash king, his character is so wonderfully written.
etc:
- hm i think i made him a bit too ooc in this. i understand he's pretty joyful at times but i was hoping to create a piece where we see this facade crack?? not sure if i did very well with that haha
- this was initially written as in the view point of a female character. hopefully i'll but able to write a gender neutral fic soon
please inform me of any typos so i can fix them!
© 2015 - 2024 ohsehvn
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